From sea to shining sea, we've rounded up hot sauces from every state in the Union (plus D.C., minus N.D.). Which one represents your home?

</head>America is going from a country of mayo spreaders to one of hot sauce heatniks, with no signs of stopping. Since 2000, the American hot sauce market has grown by 150%, as Quartz showed in a handy chart, leaving the usual and more mild suspects like ketchup and mustard in the dust (relish didn't stand a chance). And as wonderful as the wide variety of hot sauces from around the globe is, America's got a whole lot going on right here. Fifty states worth, in fact.

Welcome to: The United States of Hot Sauce.

The love affair goes way back. It was in Massachusetts that the first commercially bottled cayenne sauce went on the market in 1807. Bird Pepper Sauce (which no longer exists) popped up in New York City a few decades later. Today, New Mexico produces nearly half of all chiles grown in the U.S. for an industry that, in 2009, was worth nearly $500 million to the state. Sales of Huy Fong Sriracha next door in Cali reached $60 million just last year.

Who's eating all of this? About one in five adults, according to one study. And since every single state makes a hot sauce*—and even the District of Columbia has more than one—we decided to round up a hot sauce from every state. We tested them all (good thing we know how to quell the burn), established personal records for the amount of hot sauce one person can ingest before the taste buds are shot, and learned a lot about who is making hot sauce in every corner of the country. America's love for hot sauce is so profound, that we had to include two from Minnesota and Vermont—states that don't immediately scream chiles!!! Some of our picks are local and organic and come in bottles that are hiply designed. Some tend toward the vulgar end of the hot sauce biz, the naked ladies and profanities and names like, "Fear this!" Still, others have been burning mouths the same way for almost 100 years.

This not a Best Of, nor an attempt to define the one emblematic hot sauce for each state. There are certainly hot sauces tied to a region, like the aged, vinegar-based Louisiana-style or New Mexico's version made without vinegar, but as our 50 picks show, these regional styles tend to transcend state lines. This is a nod to our growing nation of chile heads, coating their food in chiles, vinegar, and even sometimes seaweed, from sea to shining sea.

*maybe. There is a "sauce" out in North Dakota that's called a hot sauce, looks like a salsa, and was unavailable for in-person verification. Ditto the hot sauces made in Arkansas, which we couldn't get a hold of for this story. Do you have favorites from these states, or from any other, that we missed? Tell us about them!

ARKANSAS

We'd love to try some of the sauces being made in Arkansas—but alas, couldn't get a hold of any for this story. What are your favorites, Arkansawyers? Back to the Top ↑

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CALIFORNIA

Dave's Gourmet

The WSJ once called Dave Hirschkop "the granddaddy of ultra-hot sauces." For the less intense, Cool Cayenne has the color of buffalo wings and a round, mild flavor just crying out for homefries and eggs.

GEORGIA

Crazy Jerry's Brain Damage - Mind Blowin' Sauce

The pink plastic brain isn't joking around: This is a seriously hot sauce. Made with mango, mandarin oranges, chipotle and habanero chiles, this sauce, as Crazy Jerry says, is for "The kind of folks who get their kicks spittin' into the wind and arm rasslin' big women."

KANSAS

Original Juan Pain 100%

This habanero sauce shut down our tasting for the day. Take the beautiful red color speckled with seeds as a warning. They're not lying about the 100% pain in this bottle, the only 5 on our flame scale, but if you taste closely, you'll also appreciate the Indonesian-sambal-style flavor.

LOUISIANA

Louisiana

MAINE

Captain Mowatt's Blue Flame

In 1775, Captain Henry Mowatt burned down half of Portland from his ships in Casco Bay. This blueberry-tinged sauce (we couldn't not pick the one made with wild Maine blueberries and a little seaweed), won't set your mouth aflame, but it's pleasantly sweet and fruity.

MONTANA

Rook's

NEBRASKA

Volcanic Peppers Lava Chocolate Lightning Hot Sauce

There may be no actual lava in Omaha, NE, but the blend of smoked habanero, bhut jolokia, and Trinidad Moruga Scorpion chile powders is what this company calls "Volcano Dust." Mixed with vinegar and chocolate habaneros, you get a smoky, Louisiana-style sauce.

Green Bandit Cilantro Hot Sauce

NEW MEXICO

Sancto Scorpio (NMSU)

It takes a second, but then the heat comes. The back-of-the-throat burn on this sauce from the New Mexico Chile Institute comes from the dreaded Trinidad Moruga Scorpion chile, but it tastes less scary than it sounds.

OREGON

NW Elixirs Bangkok Hott #4

PENNSYLVANIA

Homesweet Homegrown Orange Crush

Orange Crush gets its lovely pale orange color from Scotch bonnet habaneros and, perhaps surprisingly, carrots—both, unsurprisingly, homegrown. The veg flavor comes out in this light, fruity sauce, which, like all of Robyn's sauces, is vegan and thickened with chia. Use it to dress fresh vegetables like tomatoes or cucumbers.

WEST VIRGINIA

Scorned Woman

WISCONSIN

Hellfire Hot Sauce

A sneaky, lingering, burns-a-hole-in-your-mouth kind of heat, and as it should be: It's made with the Carolina Reaper, the recently crowned hottest pepper ever. Until someone invents an even hotter one, that is.